


Merry Christmas, Haytham

by sunnyautumnmorning



Category: Assassin's Creed III - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:37:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5458358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyautumnmorning/pseuds/sunnyautumnmorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift for Haytham turns out to be more than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, Haytham

Shaking hands, carefully wrapped the small box in colorful paper, gently folding the paper to make the neatest of edges and corners.  
With precision, the length of a complimentary color of silk ribbon was cut and deftly wrapped around the package, coming to form a near perfect bow to sit atop.  
A sprig of greenery from a pine bough and a small leaf of holly with one single berry were added as an afterthought to the package.

All was right, all was ready.

A small smile appeared on the lips that were pressed together.

A worn cloak, that had seen better days, was removed from a small peg, near the drafty door and carefully tied under a chin, which trembled at the thought of seeing the recipient of the package.

Thoughts of what the outcome might be, raced through the giver’s mind, as she exited out of the door and down a narrow lamplight street.

Past children, playing in their front yards, in the freshly fallen snow, she wandered, skirts swishing and leaving an odd trail on the street behind her.  
Past windows she went, in which candles and oil lamps could be seen, casting their warmth in the rooms of those more fortunate than that of herself.

She paused momentarily, to watch as a father with a freshly cut tree, tried to enter the door of his abode only to be pounced on by his delighted children. After many congratulations, on his choice of such a fine tree, he finally made it through the door.

She smiled the nearer she drew to her destination and to the one that she hoped would allow such a gift to be given.

The recipient was a man that was not taken to such outward displays of affection and on several occasions had made it perfectly clear that it had not, in any way, been necessary.

A simple thank you was all he had requested when money had been thrust into his hand.

Nothing more was expected in return for too much had already been given over. Kindness and propriety and assurances of a continuing friendship with such longevity that one might be overwhelmed by the breadth and width of it would suffice.

Nonetheless, this simple gift was intended to be that: a simple gift. No strings attached or any continuance of any contract; just one person extending their appreciation and understanding for the other.

Her destination was now before her and as she stood listening to the gaiety of the music and sounds emanating from within, she hesitated slightly wondering if she were overstepping.

With a nod of her head, she approached the door and took the knocker in hand and tapped it three times.

The door was opened by a young woman, wearing the most deepest of scarlet gowns and an abundance of curls that made one envious.

“Oh, you must be in want of Haytham. Please do come in.”

She was ushered into the grand front hall and directed to await the man in the study where it was quieter.

After a few moments, Haytham appeared, dressed in finery and with two glasses of something brown in hand.

“Ah, my dear, I did not think I would see you until the day after tomorrow. Is everything alright?”

She nodded her head and blushed as she removed the small gift from her bag. “Please, I know it is not much, but it would mean the world to me if you could and would accept it. I spent so long making it for you and I would be terribly disappointed if you did not accept it. I know you do not like things like this, but I beg of you to take it. I do not expect anything in return; Merry Christmas, Haytham.”

Haytham took the gift in hand and looked at the beautifully wrapped treasure. He noticed the details of adornment and the care and time that had gone into the presentation. He winced slightly at his foolishness for not having something to give in return, but perhaps…

He handed her a glass of rum and raising his glass, he toasted her.

“To your health, my dear and to our continuing friendship, may she be long and beneficial to us both.”

Haytham drank down the rum and watched as she sipped at hers, her face drawing into a grimace.

“Ah, sorry, not to your liking I see. Forgive my ignorance please, perhaps I can find something else you might prefer.”

She shook her head and handed Haytham the glass then smiled awkwardly.

“I hope you like your gift.”

Haytham colored slightly, forgetting the gift for a moment. He was more interested in what stood before him as he looked upon her with new eyes.

Why had he not noticed the color of her eyes before? The way they sat above her tiny nose and those lips, those lips that were perfect on her sweet oval face.

He noticed the way a few strands of her red hair had escaped from her top knot and he found his hand stretching out to touch those strands, then his fingers caressed her cheek.

Her head dropped down and she blushed and he found that to be amusing and exhilarating at the same time.

“I would like nothing more than to kiss you right now.” It came out quickly and he did not care if he sounded forward at all.

His heart hammered in his chest as he waited for her response.

She looked up at him, doe eyed, her bottom lip quivering as she nodded her permission.

Haytham swept her into his arms and kissed her, tenderly at first then with a sweeping passion that left both of them wanton with lust.

He released her and stepped back, wondering if he dared go further, but now was not the time, nor the place.

Her hand came to her mouth and she held it there for a moment and smiled coyly, yet sweetly.

“Um… the present?”

Haytham was still reeling from the taste of her lips, a mix of her and the alcohol and he casually nodded, taking the gift in hand and removing the ribbon, letting it fall with the wrapping paper to the floor.

He slowly opened the box and to his surprise and perhaps some amusement what lay within on the folds of silk.

It was a Templar cross.

It was forged in silver, with rubies set within the cross.

It was stunning, exquisite and beautiful and must have cost a fortune. A fortune that he knew she did not have.

He looked up from the box and onto her face which was now graced with a wide smile. In her hand she held a small pistol and in the other hand, extending towards his throat was an Assassin’s blade.

“Merry Christmas, Haytham.”

 


End file.
